A Magical Match

by Juliet Blackwell

The floor space was crowded with racks of clothing, cardboard boxes, and piles of dresses and blouses from my shop. A narrow passageway led to the worktables at the rear of the store.

  I paused briefly and stroked my medicine bag before proceeding any farther. I started chanting, casting a charm for strength and focus. Unfortunately, I was more of a brewing witch than a battling witch. But when I was properly focused, I could send out a blast of energy, as I sometimes did when startled—as Aidan and I had when we last saw Jamie.

  “I hate it when you guys do that weird mumblin’ thing,” said Jamie as he emerged from the shadows. He held Selena in front of him, his right hand over her mouth, his left holding a knife to her throat. As usual, Selena’s affect was flat. But her eyes were screaming.

  I kept on “mumbling.”

  “Seriously, you don’t shut up, and the chickie here is gonna get cut.”

  I stopped chanting, but continued stroking the medicine bag. I could feel the outline of the lachrymatory within the fabric. The vial with the salts of my teenage tears.

  “I’m surprised at you, Jamie,” I said. I glanced at Selena, trying to telegraph to her that I would take care of her, that I would make sure she was safe. “I mean, I knew you were working for Renee, but I guess I assumed you were sort of a ‘bad guy with a heart of gold.’”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot, actually. Don’t know why, except I really am a nice guy a lot of the time. But the truth is, people underestimate me. I got ambition, which is somethin’ a lot of people don’t understand these days.”

  “So, is that what you’re doing over at the party? Creating a distraction? I must say, I’m impressed.” We could hear the cacophony next door, the mingled shrieks of delight and surprise.

  “That? Naw, that ain’t me. Truth is, I don’t have that kind of skill. That’s all Renee. Shoulda seen her, laughin’ her ass off, cookin’ it up.” He shook his head, and nudged something with his foot. There was a soft moan. Only then did I realize—what I had assumed was yet another heap of clothing was actually Renee, lying on the floor.

  “What did you do to her?” I asked.

  “She’ll be okay, prob’ly, just a knot on her head. Maybe her ego will be a little bruised—you catch my drift. I gotta say, Renee and me, we don’t share the same sense of humor. That’s one reason, maybe, why this whole coincidentia deal isn’t gonna work between us like I hoped it would.”

  “The coincidentia oppositorum? You wanted Tristan out of the way so you could step in and be Renee’s partner?”

  He nodded.

  “Why did you set up Sailor?”

  He laughed. “That part was sheer luck. Renee just couldn’t stop talkin’ about him, how unfair it was that you was gonna get married and be happy when no one else in your—how do you call it?—‘profession’ did. Gotta say, you have a way of getting under her skin. She sent me to your boyfriend’s apartment to steal something of his. No offense, but that’s a pretty depressin’ place.”

  “He’s not big on home decorating,” I said lightly, hoping my tone would help to ease Selena’s fears a little. “Why did you steal his father’s watch?”

  “Renee was gonna use it to hex him, get control over him. Maybe change who he was fond of—you catch my drift. But then she got lucky when Maya brought you one of her pasties—it had a charm in it, made just for you so it wouldn’t affect anyone else if they happened to eat it. She didn’t want to totally do you in or nothin’, just distract you. Guess she managed that, right?”

  “Yes, I guess you can say I’ve been a little distracted lately.”

  “I happened to have Sailor’s watch on me when I tried my first silverfish deal. Looked in the mirror, and voilà! No wonder you people enjoy this magic thing so much. Anyway, I got a few of those special silverfish from a Russian out in the avenues who I was able to persuade to help me with the spell. Took some practice, but I got to where I could keep up a glamour for, like, twenty minutes. Which is pretty darned good, if you ask me. Had to keep checking the time—wouldn’t do to transform back to little ol’ me in the middle of things.”

  “Again, I’m impressed. When you chased after us at Sailor’s apartment, I had no idea it was you.”

  “Yeah, that was just dumb luck. It’s like I’m charmed lately, excuse the pun. I went by Sailor’s building just to practice this glamour deal. Gotta say, it’s a little addictive once you start doing it. I thought I’d see if I could fool folks who really knew Sailor, up close and personal, like his neighbors or landlord. Couldn’t believe it when I looked up the stairs, and there you stood, with that Gypsy lady.”

  “Why did you chase us?”

  He grinned. “Just to see if I could. A guy like me, in my normal form . . . well, I don’t exactly inspire fear and trembling just by looking at me. You get my drift. It was a hoot to see how scared you guys got. You just about jumped off the roof!”

  “That we did. And before that, while you were in Sailor’s form, you figured you could kill Tristan with impunity.”

  “Impuni-what? I figured I could get away with it, if that’s what you mean. Went there to get the lachrymatory Tristan promised Renee, and figured he’d be a goner by then. But he came at me, really made me mad. He was sick as a dog, but he still thought he could take me. I guess I showed him what for, but it sure did make a mess.”

  “Your use of poison surprises me. I thought you’d be a gunman.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You pulled a gun on me once, a while ago, remember?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t a real gun. It was a starting pistol. Nabbed it from my nephew’s track coach. I support gun control, tell you the truth. Bunch of nutcases walking around with concealed weapons, what’s that about? No, thank you. Besides, poison’s got lots more advantages. Slip some mushrooms into one of Renee’s pasties, wait a few hours, and it’s vomit city. After all, who could resist one of Renee’s creations—am I right?”

  I nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. You’re pretty smart, Jamie. You thought this through.”

  “See, you get me. You suppose me and you got a shot at this coincidentia oppositorum deal?”

  “I thought you were partnering with Renee?”

  He glanced down at her crumpled form. “Yeah, that might not work out so good. Seems like we weren’t on the same wavelength, after all. Plus, she’s prob’ly gonna be pissed when she comes around, so I really could use someone on my side. Not sure my Russian connection can handle someone like Renee. Also, here I thought she was the big threat to you and Aidan, but now I guess there’s something else happening.”

  “Something else?” I kept my eyes on Jamie, but tried to convey calm and strength to Selena, who hadn’t made a sound other than a muffled whimper.

  “You don’t know?” Jamie asked. “Yeah, turns out, Renee’s just an underling, too! She likes to talk a big game, but she’s takin’ orders, just like the rest of us.”

  “Orders from whom?”

  “Hey, lady, if I knew everything you think I know, I’d be running the show already, wouldn’t I? All I know is she started burning some batches of cupcakes, and it was a bad sign. That’s why she was kind of freaking out, and thought if you were sick, she might be able to pry you away from Aidan, and then you and she could get together. It wasn’t that great of a plan, though. And she hadn’t really counted on Tristan showing up—she was so excited to get her hands on that lachrymatory, thought it might solve all her problems. Whatever happened to that, by the way?”

  I could feel the lachrymatory humming in my medicine bag. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “Heh. Good one. So back to what I was saying: I’m gonna need a strong ally or two. You and me, maybe we could be partners.”

  “It’s not such a bad idea, actually. But . . . somehow I doubt I could trust someone who would hold my sister at knifepoint.”

  Ja
mie looked down at Selena, a confused look on his face, as though he had almost forgotten the teenager was still in his arms, at his mercy.

  “This is your sister?”

  I nodded. Behind Jamie, I spied the glow of Oscar’s green eyes peering out of the dark rear of the store. I wasn’t certain how this situation would end, but my confidence was growing. It felt as though the befuddling spell was lifting, and I could sense my powers more clearly than I had in days.

  “See? Matching polka-dot dresses. Selena’s my magical match,” I said, holding out my skirt. “Mess with her and you mess with me.”

  “Now, see here—that’s not my fault. I didn’t know that. How am I supposed to know something like that? She walked in here with Renee, is all.” He licked his lips and seemed to be trying to think of his next move, or how to stall for more time. “So, I gotta know, how’d you finally figure me out?”

  “Amoeba Records doesn’t open till eleven.”

  “How’d you know I didn’t come to Haight Street early, to get a coffee or something?”

  “I didn’t. Not really. It just made me wonder.”

  “That’s it? Ah, jeez, gave myself away for no good reason. Story of my life.”

  “Also, I tried to think of anyone who might want to move up in this world, to partner with Renee. Like you say, you’ve got ambition. And—no offense—but you’re a little bit crazy.”

  “Heh, good one.” His hand had slipped down a bit, but that knife was still too close to Selena’s vulnerable throat. One quick jab would be enough to end her life.

  “Jamie, do you know what it’s like to get on the bad side of a witch? I mean, like, the really bad side of a witch?”

  It was hard to tell in the dim light, but I thought he blanched a bit.

  “Take a moment and think about that,” I continued. “Really ponder it, roll it around in your mind, meditate on it. And then think about what it might be like to be on the bad side of several witches. A whole coven, or maybe two.”

  I could feel strength surging in me. I didn’t dare turn around to look, but I wondered whether Aidan might have shown up after all, or Patience and Renna, or maybe even my grandmother’s coven. There was definitely something going on. Somebody—maybe several somebodies—had my back.

  “What . . . what are you smiling about?” Jamie asked.

  “Ever have a day when you’re just feeling good?” I said, now grinning. “Really good. Like the fog has lifted?”

  “What are you . . . ? What’s goin’ on?”

  I heard chanting behind me. It started as a low hum, almost undetectable, but gradually grew in intensity.

  “I hate that mumblin’ thing!” Jamie said. “How are you doing that?”

  “Witches come from a long line of powerful women, Jamie—you should know that. We’re never truly alone. We come by the dozen, plus one. That’s what a coven is.”

  “Stop it!” He brought the knife closer to Selena’s neck. “Stop mumblin’!”

  “I’m not saying a word.”

  I concentrated on his forehead. Kept my gaze there, my eyes piercing and focusing intently. The chanting continued, filling the room and lending me strength. Oscar’s presence was helping to open the portals, to let the spirits slip through. But this time, there was more than one spirit guiding me.

  Jamie’s forehead started to smoke. He cried out. A charred symbol took shape: the sigil of Deliverance Corydon, seared into his flesh. He dropped the knife and fell to his knees, screaming in pain. Oscar moved in on him then, looming over him, snarling.

  “Lily!” Selena ran to me, throwing her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I let the bugs out accidentally. And the cupcake lady said she would help me and we could find a trap for them here, so I came with her—”

  “Shhhhh, later, m’ija,” I said, hugging her to me with one arm. I kept my other hand on my humming medicine bag. “Jamie, the only way to save yourself is to confess everything to the police. Do you hear me? You will get Sailor off the hook, or so help me . . .”

  Behind me, the chanting continued until it was loud enough to drown out the raucous sounds emanating from Aunt Cora’s Closet.

  “I’ll do it! I’ll do anything! Just stop!” Jamie lay on the floor, crying out and writhing.

  “Basta, m’ija,” I heard Graciela say from behind me. “Enough. Stick a fork in him, as you young people say. He’s done.”

  Chapter 29

  “Looks like we got here just in time,” said Graciela.

  She looked much older, and even shorter, than when last I’d seen her. But just as beautiful. Her stubborn chin, black eyes, and broad cheekbones . . . she was a sight for sore eyes.

  I couldn’t stop hugging her. Finally, she pulled away and chided me: “Enough, enough, m’ija. You never did know when to stop.”

  But she was smiling, patting me with her soft hands. The feel of those hands on me made me feel like a cherished child again.

  Graciela’s coven members seemed unfazed by the scene they’d walked in on. Oscar had shifted back into his pig guise, but three coven members circled Jamie, instructing him to stay where he was on the floor, or else. The others kissed and hugged me with cries of “Merry part and merry meet!” “It’s been so long!” “You’ve become such a witch!” And then they peppered Selena with kisses and hugs, even though they’d never met. To my surprise, she gave them each a shy smile, and didn’t pull away.

  Darlene, one of the coven sisters skilled in healing, knelt over the still prostrate Renee, and declared her alive but in need of medical care for an apparent concussion. Apparently someone had already called for help, because we could hear the noise of a siren growing nearer.

  “Where’s my mother?” I asked.

  “Still on the bus,” answered Agatha, another coven sister. “Give her a little time.”

  “You know how she is,” said another. “She’s never been one for parties. What’s happening next door?”

  “Yeah, it’s some out-of-control magic. We might need to calm that down,” I said. “Especially before the authorities get here.”

  Outside, the school bus was double-parked and creating a jam on busy Haight Street. I tried to catch a glimpse of my mother, but couldn’t see her inside the bus. Conrad was helping to direct traffic around the bus.

  Graciela and the rest of the coven waved hello to Conrad—apparently they were old friends by now, since he was the one who told them where I was—and then entered the mayhem of Aunt Cora’s Closet, snacking on leftovers as they used their talents to help calm things. Several of the tea patrons had left, but most were still there, apparently enjoying the dancing dresses and the ghostly food fight.

  I wasn’t sure how Renee had pulled that last one off, but I was impressed. I would have to ask her about it when she was feeling better.

  Selena apologized again, and managed to herd the remaining silverfish into a jar. The light glinting off the silver cutlery bounced around her, making her smile.

  Graciela’s coven formed a circle around the room, and they started to chant, intoning with the ease of a coven of powerful women who had known one another for decades, and who weren’t put off by much of anything.

  The dancing dresses fell to the floor, and the last of the baked goods stayed on their platters.

  By the time the police and the ambulance arrived, Aunt Cora’s Closet was quiet. It was one royal mess, but it was quiet. The remaining partygoers started to drift off, but Selena and Maya and Lucille and Conrad, and most of Brownyn’s Welcome coven, stayed behind to help clean up. They were excited to meet Graciela and her coven, and the chattering didn’t stop.

  The police officers admonished me for letting my party get out of hand and asked us to move the bus out of the way, but, most important, took a very eager Jamie into custody. He was confessing before they even read him his rights. Hi
s forehead was no longer smoking, but I imagined he would be left with a scar for some time, as a souvenir of Deliverance Corydon. The paramedics took Renee to San Francisco General.

  “I think we might want to leave the rest of the cleanup until morning,” I said, looking around at the dispiriting mess.

  “Nonsense,” said Darlene. “If we all work together, we’ll put this place to right in an hour!”

  Several of the elderly witches—including Graciela—took seats and “supervised” while the rest of us cleaned. But the talking didn’t stop. It seemed my friends had been very curious about my background, and they peppered the Texan witches with questions.

  “You should go on out and talk to your mother,” Graciela told me. “Or likely she’s never gettin’ off that bus.”

  “Really?”

  “Go, m’ija. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s time.”

  By that point Conrad had parked the bus on a side street, where it was still double-parked but at least not obstructing bustling Haight Street.

  The door was open. I stroked my medicine bag, took a deep breath, and climbed aboard.

  Toward the back sat an older woman, a big embroidered handbag sitting primly in her lap.

  Margarita Velasquez Ivory. Maggie. My mother.

  We had both aged, and changed. Her once-chestnut hair was liberally shot through with white, and she seemed smaller than I remembered. Her face was fuller, but still carried a sweet, somewhat bewildered expression. As with Graciela, she looked beautiful to me, wrinkles and all.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said as I walked down the aisle.

  I sat on the bench across from her.

  “Lily. You look . . . It’s . . . I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Me, too.”

  A long moment passed.

  “I have to explain myself.”

  “Mom, you don’t have to—”

  “No, please. Let me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for so long; I’ve done so endlessly in my mind.”

  I smiled. “I’ve had a few conversations in my mind with you, too.”